Marcello, thank you very much for reading and for writing these kind words. That scene also took me by surprise when I was writing it. I had no idea where this story was going, I just had the concept rolling around in my head due to James' and Paul's respective works
I can so vividly see the priests sat at that red plastic table outside the kiosk with their beers and cigarettes, clad in cassocks no less. What a fascinating premise. Doamne ajută.
Thank you very much, ASH PAGES! They were inspired by the multitude of cool priests that I've had the pleasure of meeting throughout my lifetime. Continuing a conversation from one of your notes, you asked me about the sermon my parish priest gave on Kafka’s A Hunger Artist. It was a very short sermon, which is funny because, when he was younger, he was apparently known for giving extremely long ones. He is quite old now. He is also the priest who baptized me, although I did not grow up in the area and my neighborhood belonged to a different parish. The gist of the sermon was that meaningless asceticism, however impressive it may initially seem, eventually becomes boring to us, to God, and to everyone else. What matters is the energy and life that emerge from spiritual discipline. That is why the story ends with the hunger artist being replaced by a young panther. The panther possesses everything the artist lacks: vitality, strength, appetite, and a kind of effortless magnificence. I think that is also what the fruits of the Spirit should ultimately produce in us. We should become compassionate, strong, steadfast, and awesome in the original sense of the word: capable of inspiring awe. That seems far more meaningful than simply refusing to eat, cultivating severity, or starving oneself for no greater purpose.
Man, an honor to be mentioned as an inspiration for so excellent a work. As I read more and more of your fiction, Stefan, I find that you're really in touch with the deeper currents you alluded to in the preface, the currents people themselves aren't even aware of. And those come through in your stories.
Paul, thank you very much for your kind words and for reading every comment. To be honest, as I mentioned in another reply above, you and James gave me most of the story: the concept, the foundation, and much of what made it work. I simply brought in a little of the world I knew from my own past, and this is what I ended up with.
Would you say the virus keeps hitting repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat on the truth? Silly joke about my favorite analogy aside, I loved how y’all carried out the concept.
Thank you for the kind words, and loved the silly joke. James must be given all the credit for establishing the concept, I merely placed it in a context that was very close to home. If you want to imagine the Church, google “Parohia Sfanta Vineri Pajura”
Thanks a lot, man, for the restack and for reading. I’m really glad the piece moved you enough to make you want to read it again. That’s one of the highest compliments a writer can receive. But as I’ve said in a few other comments, this was, in a sense, a team effort. Literature, capital L, as I understand it, is always a team effort. More than anything, we are all on Literature’s team, and it unfolds through us. Appreciate you, man. Truly.
Such an illuminating and beautifully written story.
Lately, I’ve started noticing people dropping into their third face for just a second or two. Sometimes, they drop into their divinity, more often than not they expose their Shadow.
A part of me is dying to say, “Whoops, your mask just fell off!“
My mouth opens, and my tongue starts to wag, and a still small voice – could easily be the voice of Father Vincențiu – cautions me to shut my mouth before it causes harm.
I forgot to comment on this when I initially read it. This is just excellent. Your influences are clear without being derivative, resulting in a exciting yet familiar melange of ideas. The priests remind me very much of priests that I have known!
Thank you very much for your kind words, Caroline. This piece drew upon my experiences with the many priests I have encountered, both in the world and in monasteries. It was also inspired by the respective works of James and Paul. I simply tried to do justice to those influences through my writing. I am so glad that it touched you, and I deeply appreciate you taking the time to read it and restacking it with a glowing recommendation.
Even though it was short, the dialogue was so clear, all I needed was their name the first time they spoke. Then I could tell it was them any line afterward.
The scene of him lying about the beer just to sit with Timotei got me, quietly, more than anything else in the story. Beautifully done.
Marcello, thank you very much for reading and for writing these kind words. That scene also took me by surprise when I was writing it. I had no idea where this story was going, I just had the concept rolling around in my head due to James' and Paul's respective works
You’ve proven once again the best stories reveal themselves to the author in the telling!
I can so vividly see the priests sat at that red plastic table outside the kiosk with their beers and cigarettes, clad in cassocks no less. What a fascinating premise. Doamne ajută.
Thank you very much, ASH PAGES! They were inspired by the multitude of cool priests that I've had the pleasure of meeting throughout my lifetime. Continuing a conversation from one of your notes, you asked me about the sermon my parish priest gave on Kafka’s A Hunger Artist. It was a very short sermon, which is funny because, when he was younger, he was apparently known for giving extremely long ones. He is quite old now. He is also the priest who baptized me, although I did not grow up in the area and my neighborhood belonged to a different parish. The gist of the sermon was that meaningless asceticism, however impressive it may initially seem, eventually becomes boring to us, to God, and to everyone else. What matters is the energy and life that emerge from spiritual discipline. That is why the story ends with the hunger artist being replaced by a young panther. The panther possesses everything the artist lacks: vitality, strength, appetite, and a kind of effortless magnificence. I think that is also what the fruits of the Spirit should ultimately produce in us. We should become compassionate, strong, steadfast, and awesome in the original sense of the word: capable of inspiring awe. That seems far more meaningful than simply refusing to eat, cultivating severity, or starving oneself for no greater purpose.
Your Note responses to short comments are more incisive and illuminating than 90% of the essays Posted by so-called thinkers on the stack
Maybe 99%
Man, an honor to be mentioned as an inspiration for so excellent a work. As I read more and more of your fiction, Stefan, I find that you're really in touch with the deeper currents you alluded to in the preface, the currents people themselves aren't even aware of. And those come through in your stories.
Paul, thank you very much for your kind words and for reading every comment. To be honest, as I mentioned in another reply above, you and James gave me most of the story: the concept, the foundation, and much of what made it work. I simply brought in a little of the world I knew from my own past, and this is what I ended up with.
Would you say the virus keeps hitting repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat on the truth? Silly joke about my favorite analogy aside, I loved how y’all carried out the concept.
Thank you for the kind words, and loved the silly joke. James must be given all the credit for establishing the concept, I merely placed it in a context that was very close to home. If you want to imagine the Church, google “Parohia Sfanta Vineri Pajura”
This came to life, took me by the hand and transported me
I loved that his last lie
was a little white one
... yeah, imma have to read that again
Thanks a lot, man, for the restack and for reading. I’m really glad the piece moved you enough to make you want to read it again. That’s one of the highest compliments a writer can receive. But as I’ve said in a few other comments, this was, in a sense, a team effort. Literature, capital L, as I understand it, is always a team effort. More than anything, we are all on Literature’s team, and it unfolds through us. Appreciate you, man. Truly.
Such an illuminating and beautifully written story.
Lately, I’ve started noticing people dropping into their third face for just a second or two. Sometimes, they drop into their divinity, more often than not they expose their Shadow.
A part of me is dying to say, “Whoops, your mask just fell off!“
My mouth opens, and my tongue starts to wag, and a still small voice – could easily be the voice of Father Vincențiu – cautions me to shut my mouth before it causes harm.
Super thought-provoking story!
I forgot to comment on this when I initially read it. This is just excellent. Your influences are clear without being derivative, resulting in a exciting yet familiar melange of ideas. The priests remind me very much of priests that I have known!
I was there, great depiction. And I was made slow and thoughtful, great poking of the heart / psyche.
Thank you very much for your kind words, Caroline. This piece drew upon my experiences with the many priests I have encountered, both in the world and in monasteries. It was also inspired by the respective works of James and Paul. I simply tried to do justice to those influences through my writing. I am so glad that it touched you, and I deeply appreciate you taking the time to read it and restacking it with a glowing recommendation.
What a unique kind of set up for a story.
Even though it was short, the dialogue was so clear, all I needed was their name the first time they spoke. Then I could tell it was them any line afterward.